Eyes on Fire
by SlytherinPrincess123
Summary: When Dumbledore manipulates the brightest student at Hogwarts into a dangerous mission, will she succeed in the cunning plan, or fall for an even more cunning trap, in the form of Tom Riddle Jr.? HermioneXTom Possible M in later chapters.
1. Prologue

**Author's note:**** Just wanted a little something to post as a Prologue of sorts. It's a school night, so deal with it's shortness. And yes, I am a sick, twisted person. This is a Hermione and Tom fanfic. Enjoy :) Reviews are appreciated.**

**Eyes on Fire**

When Hermione was one year, three months, two weeks, and five days old, she spoke her first word.

For a young girl of Hermione's intellectual power, taking her such a long amount of time to speak was bizarre. At least that's what friends of the family had told her parents. They had convinced Jebedia and Sarah Granger that there was something wrong with their daughter. There were many countless hours dedicated to attempting even a simple "Mama?" from the child. No such hope was found.

In actuality, there was absolutely nothing wrong with her. She was a healthy, happy little girl. The need to speak had just never come to her. With parents as attentive as hers, what could she possibly have to say?

She knew how. It wasn't too difficult to figure out after a few weeks of watching her parents make comments on people and places. Hermione understood well.

But only did she find the need to speak when she looked up to the sky one night. It was a cool evening, and the stars were quite bright. Dinner was being prepared at the Granger household. Seeing as she was an only child, lagging behind her mother was always an option to relieve her boredom.

By chance, Hermione set her innocent brown eyes upon a bright green mark on the horizon. From the window, she had difficulty seeing it in it's entirety. Tugging on Sarah's sleeve, she was granted the attention of the two dentists in kitchen.

"Snake." Was the first word out of her mouth, as she pointed to exactly that, slithering from a skull.

Miles away, the very man who had cast the light in the sky was marching to bring Harry Potter to his death.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's note:**** And so the fun begins. I am going to make this super evil :) You can count on that. **

**I'd also like to thank the following users for their wonderful reviews!:**

**Oliverwoodishot (Nice username, by the way xD)**

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**and Know-it-all, who I would have PMd if they weren't an anon, thanks so much! :)**

**Keep 'em coming you guys!**

**Eyes on Fire**

**Chapter One**

Harry handed Hermione her lost quill from his spot sprawled on the floor. "You dropped it awhile ago..." He told her in a rather small voice, surprise more evident than fear. She looked at him with dread and let out a heavy sigh. Snatching it from his hand, she noticed Ron still staring at her as if she had sprouted a second head.

"Look, I'm sorry. I-I'm just... I need some air." She lied simply, dropping the cluttered mass of papers and books from her other arm. Dashing out the door, she ignored the pair's protests, as well as the appalled gasp sounding from the Fat Lady at being handled so roughly.

Digging into her enchanted handbag, which she now kept on her person the majority of the time, she grappled with stray objects until she got a hand on a familiar fabric. She pulled out the invisibility cloak and threw it over her head. She had been keeping items like said cloak with her for the boys for a few weeks now. With the amount of trouble they got in lately, and between Harry spying on Draco and Ron sneaking out to Hogsmeade on occasion, it was a necessity.

She began walking through the hallways of the school, the astronomy tower her destination. Recalling her outburst only moments before, she found that she was appalled in herself as well.

_"Stop! I can't take it anymore! You have to learn responsibility! And don't snicker like that Ron, this goes for you as well!" Hermione shouted, wagging her finger at the boys._

_ Overwhelmed by the work she had done, was doing, and had to do, she couldn't handle any more._

_ "So... Does that mean you won't write my potion's essay for me?" Ron asked timidly._

_ Hermione's facial expression found itself in a mask of absolute anger. "NO, RONALD! I will not!" Her hands wound their way into her smoother than usual hair in frustration. "I am going to finish my homework and go to bed." _

_ With a swift nod, she turned back to the table to do exactly that. As she sat down, she searched for her quill, to no avail. "Really?" Hermione spat at them, rummaging through countless course books and pieces of parchment for the feather she so desperately needed._

_ Lifting them all up at once, she turned on the two. "You couldn't even bring your own quills?"_

_ She was filled to the brim with frustration, and every passing second felt like another drop of the seething irritation. Harry leaned forward slightly, peeking her curiosity enough to pause the onslaught of scorn preparing to leave her lips. He held up the very quill she had been hunting for._

Of course she felt awful. Guilt was becoming a requirement in the life of Hermione Granger. She would like to say that it wasn't her fault, but she couldn't.

You have to understand, she was far from familiar with the drama and hormone-induced tension that filled the halls of Hogwarts. It might have been much different from muggle schools, but in that one aspect they were very much the same.

It was Harry. At the beginning of their sixth year together with Ron, the black haired boy had discovered that damned potions book. Hermione had tried on various occasions to sneak it away from him unnoticed, but failed every time. She always justified it as "making sure that it wasn't dangerous." Well, dangerous in more ways than the dark secrets the text held. But it was a lie, and all three of them knew it. Actually, Harry and Hermione knew. Perhaps not Ron; he was more preoccupied by the strange looks Lavender Brown was giving him.

The truth was a bitter one to face. _Jealousy._ That was the burning feeling that caused her blood to boil with uncontrollable... what was the word she was looking for? She just couldn't find it.

That! That's exactly it! She _always _knew the words lingering on the tip of her tongue. How could it change so suddenly? Doubt in her ability as a genius was a strange emotion that she rarely allowed herself to feel. It wasn't very Hermione-ish.

In her third year, when faced with the boggart everyone had been dreading, it took the shape of Professor McGonagall. Yes, Minerva was a very terrifying woman when she set her mind to it, but that wasn't the end of it. In a stern, disappointment-ridden voice, she told the young witch that she had failed all of her courses. This sent her into a ramrod stance, lost for words. When she finally managed to stutter out the counter curse, it turned to the same teacher, with a pleasant smile, giving her an award for the highest scores Hogwarts had ever seen.

Most of the students present had simply laughed, saying it was a silly thing to be frightened of. But it wasn't, not to Hermione. Failure was something she just didn't do. Being teased for her bushy hair and overly-large teeth in primary school had given her an ambition to rival any. If looks wouldn't get her anywhere, surely her brilliant mind had to. After learning of her acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she knew that she had to get the best marks of her fellow students.

And then came Harry. It was the same Harry of course, but so different. He was aided by that bloody book! Watching Slughorn give his praise to her friend rather than to herself set Hermione off. It made her irritable, selfish, jealous, and all of those other emotions she found alien.

Harry already had his gift. He was a wonderful dueler, brave, though a bit rash sometimes, and he had defeated _the_ _Dark Lord himself. _Could Hermione not have this one little thing?

These feelings and thoughts drove her even further off the deep end. She wasn't supposed to be so selfish. Harry and Ron had taught her better. They just weren't like other boys.

The Boy-Who-Lived was completely blind to normal teenage life. Perhaps it had rubbed off on her? That was a given. Hermione, though she felt guilty for doing so, was terribly sympathetic. She knew that Harry wouldn't want her pity, but even _she_ had more social skills than him.

On many nights she would stay up pondering about the cracks in her friend's personal life. Intrusive, yes, but it couldn't be helped. His lack of positive support on some sides didn't seem to bother him anymore. During their first few years of school, he hadn't been burdened with knowledge of the people who would rather die than see him graced with the title of "The Chosen One". It must have been around third year, as Hermione recalled, that Harry finally did notice.

One trip to Hogsmeade had been absolutely ruined by the presence of an old hag who continuously yelled foul insults at the young trio. More specifically, at Harry. It ended in holding Ron back, which took the other two's combined strength (when had he become so strong?), after the insult "Mudblood!" had been shouted in one final attempt to get a rise out of them.

Hermione didn't mind it, really. It was starting to become a term she took pride in. She would never tell either of her friends, of course. She knew that she would receive a disbelieving stare from Harry and a long lecture about how she shouldn't have to put up with that, compliments of their ginger friend. Why not save herself the trouble?

And of course there was Ron. He had become much more moody lately. Hermione once offhandedly had the thought that _someone_ must have been taking estrogen pills. She later completed two History of Magic assignments and one Charms essay for him out of her guilt. He didn't question her kindness.

The most memorable of his outbursts was after Hermione had referred to them as "Harry and Ron." She didn't see anything wrong with the term at all. But Ron clearly did. His ears turned a shade that resembled his hair, as well as his cheeks. It was a tad bit amusing to see his freckles disappear behind his flustered color. "Why is it always _Harry_ and Ron? Hm?" Ron's lips formed a tight line, and he added, "It'll never be Ron and Harry, will it?" Though the initial problem sounded as if it was directed at Harry, his words were being spat at Hermione.

The subject was never addressed again after he stormed off. She didn't fully understand it herself. Ignoring his tone of accusation, she genuinely asked herself why it _was_ Harry and Ron. Perhaps because it was in alphabetical order? Meh, it was an unimportant issue she could save for later.

But, as is most likely obvious, she felt intellectually rivaled. It was a feeling she didn't enjoy at all.

Flattening herself against a wall as Peeves speed down the hallway with a whimper, the Bloody Baron in pursuit, she barely missed the two. When she was sure they had rounded the corner for the moment, she continued down the hallway.

Maybe she would apologize. She honestly couldn't decide. Climbing the stairs up the tower, she decided that she really didn't want to leave things in such a questionable state.

She pushed open the door. The star scattered sky greeted her, and she welcomed it in comfortable silence. The invisibility cloak displaced her bangs when she removed it and folded it into a neat pile on the stone beside her. Flattening the wavy hairs back into place, she pointed her lengthy wand at a nearby torch and spoke. "_Incendio._"

The warm flame flickered ardently to life in front of her eyes, it's light casting exaggerated shadows on her skin and clothes. Hermione sighed, leaning back against the stone wall of the tower. She had made up her mind. If the boys were still in the common room when she returned, she would apologize for the scene she made and retire to the girl's dormitory. If she didn't, then sleeping would be an allusive friend.

In a more calm state than before, she sulked at the realization of how selfish she had been lately. Harry and Ron- Ron and Harry?- didn't deserve this, no matter how badly the two were being prats lately.

Steps echoed their way up the stair case, and Hermione panicked suddenly. She _couldn't_ have more points deduced after nearly jinxing Draco in potions last month. Thinking fast on her feet, she grabbed a pebble from the ground and tossed it in the direction of the door. "_Engorgio!_" Was sharply whispered underneath her breath just in time. The pebble grew to a more formidable size, one that would, thankfully, take a few moments to push aside with a door.

Less than gracefully, Hermione blew out the flames engulfing the torch and threw the cloak around herself just as her diversion was thwarted. A less than convincing "Odd..." was spoken. She had no trouble recognizing the voice as Dumbledore's.

With an internal sigh of relief, she decided it definitely could have been worse. _Snape level _worse.

He stepped onto the final stair, and his periwinkle wizard robes were hit with the moonlight. Dumbledore eyed the hint of smoke coming from the recently lit torch with quiet amusement. His piercing gaze, however, avoided Hermione's presence, or lack there visibly of, all together. He stepped to the edge slowly, as if expecting something. The grounds of Hogwarts were subjected to his careful inspection. "It's going to rain tomorrow." He said with a cheerful note to his voice, apparently to himself. Unexpectedly to her, he turned far more swiftly than she imagined a man his age doing, and returned to the staircase. The door creaked shut behind him.

Hermione began to feel calm enough to breath evenly now. _Crisis averted. _She thought to herself. Squinted eyes gradually began to adjust to dim lighting. She had never been particularly talented at seeing in the dark, and she was rather clumsy when she could see just fine. Waiting a minute or two would be best. She didn't want to risk lighting another torch just to have Dumbledore, or someone less kind, return.

She rarely snuck out at all, but the past few months had proven that she did indeed have a bit of a rebellious side, if she breathed properly while doing so. Hermione wasn't _too _adventurous with her night time strolls. Just a short loiter down the halls every now and then. Though he disapproved of her going alone, Harry would sometimes give her a heads up on who was patrolling which hallways.

Harry had entrusted Hermione with the invisibility cloak, the shard of mirror from Sirius, and the sneakoscope that was Ron's 13th birthday gift to Harry. But he had refused to part with the Marauder's Map. Hermione thought she understood.

When she could finally make out the shapes of walls and doors, she decided it was time to return to the Gryffindor common room and apologize. Just before she turned, an unusual sight caught her attention.

Stepping closer, she noticed a book that must have been placed by Dumbledore without her noticing. Curiously, she cast _lumos_. The light temporarily blinded her.

When it's features became more evident, a gasp escaped her lips. What? Why? How? She wasn't even sure which question to ask.

Picking it up gingerly with her free hand, she ghosted a thumb over the bloody, off-centered, ragged hole in the dark leather.

She knew what it was. Hermione had been taught that the unknown should be feared even more than the known. It wasn't the case this time.

Hermione's thoughts were confirmed as she read the elegant silver script engraved at the bottom right hand corner.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle._


End file.
